Bedtime Stories
by rockhotch31
Summary: Hotch and Rossi do some reminising on the flight home from a case


**Author's Note: This is my first attempt at writing fan fiction. I hope you enjoy it! Please read/review. This story is for all of my wonderful boardmates at CM Rev, especially my Hotch sisters. Thank you welcoming me into the family. All of you are the best!**

**A huge shout out and "Thank you" goes to Thn0715 , for being my encouragement, sounding board, reviewer, hand-holder and all around great friend. Hugs babe! And thanks again.**

**This story comes from our board discussion of "Hanley Waters". A "what if" prompted this idea to pop into my head and with Thn's push, got it into written form. It's mostly a light Hotch/Rossi piece, however the rest of the team is here as well.**

**Rated "T" for mild profanity. If you're over 13, you've already heard them.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or any characters.**

From the cockpit of the Gulf Stream 550 jetting its way back home to Quantico, the pilot announced to the FBI Behavior Analysis Unit members on board "You're free of the seat belts."

In the passenger cabin, Derek Morgan interned a reverent "Amen" while Spencer Reid quickly undid his belt and dove for the long couch across from the four top of seats. Winking at newly minted Agent Ashley Seaver, he said, "You get to chaperone those two Rook."

Penelope Garcia shot the young genius a one finger salute as her seat mate Morgan joked, "Need mommy to tuck you in kid?" Spencer ignored the comment as he stretched out.

In back, David Rossi rose from his seat across from Aaron Hotchner to go into the galley while Hotch began working on case files so he could spend more time with his son once they got home. Rossi returned a few minutes later, nudging Hotch's arm. Hotch looked up to see Rossi handing him a glass of scotch. "Don't worry," Rossi said, "The kids are all tucked in for the night."

Hotch gratefully accepted the glass from his best friend with a small smile and Rossi took his seat. A few seconds passed when Dave stifled a small giggle. "What?" Hotch questioned.

"These cases in small towns are always on eye opener," Dave replied, "For the locals I mean."

"I guess I'm not following you Dave."

"They know they need help so they call the big bad FBI unit. You stride in the door and they go 'Oh the FBI is here'. And then they look at the rest of us, especially when we have Garcia along, and the look on their face is like what the…" Dave explained. "Don't get me wrong, I love and appreciate Garcia as much as you but you got to admit Aaron, we are a bit of an eclectic group."

Hotch couldn't help let out a small laugh of his own. "I see what you mean. And as we get into the case with them, sometimes it gets worse."

Rossi added his own chuckle as he took a drink. "Remember that case out in Nebraska the two of us worked when you first joined the BAU? When you told that sheriff he had a sexual sadist on his hands, I swear to God he developed a permanent stutter."

The memory brought a rare broad smile from the stoic Unit Chief. He knew the two most senior members of the team probably shouldn't be having this conversation in these small quarters where everyone could hear. But after the rough case they just worked, it seemed relaxing in a way. And the team was still recovering from the sting of losing a friend and teammate so maybe he and Dave, OK him, letting his hair down a bit wouldn't be such a bad thing. Hotch pushed his files aside and took a sip of his drink.

While Hotch was doing his musing, Penelope had nudged Morgan out of his headphones and gave Reid a nod of the head to pay attention.

"We have met our share of local characters haven't we?" Hotch queried, as he watched Dave take a sip.

"You can say that again," Dave answered.

"Remember Detective Barton in Tallahassee last year?" Hotch continued. "Good cop, solved nine homicides and we found Rebecca Daniels alive. But by the end of the day he smelled worse than that unsub stiff in the warehouse."

Dave took a quick drink of his own before answering. "Why did you think I kept standing up wind from him Aaron? I need to get you into the woods. Although I think me honing your profiling skills was easy compared to teaching you about being outdoors," Dave teased. He always enjoyed bantering with Hotch, especially since it happened so rarely these days.

"Yeah, like _that_ is going to happen."

Reid and Garcia shared silent smiles as Dave was giving Hotch the gentle needle.

Rossi continued, "The one that got to me was Detective Jordan in Bridgewater. It took every ounce of my willpower to not take that idiot outside and throttle him."

"Why? Because he kept trying to look down JJ's blouse?"

"Oh, you noticed that too?"

"Dave, just because I'm out of the game doesn't mean I still don't remember how it's played."

"Oh, I'd love to see you _playing the game_," Dave mocked, now thoroughly enjoying his scotch.

"Well God knows it wouldn't be to your playing abilities," Hotch fired back with a smile, raising his glass in a silent salute to his partner.

"I'll let that one slide. No it was Jordan continually gnawing on that cigar. That's abuse of fine tobacco. There should be a law against that."

"Try Cuba," Hotch retorted.

Morgan's shoulders shook with silent mirth as Seaver leaned her elbow on the arm rest, covering her mouth with her hand to keep from laughing out loud. In their seats, the wily senior profilers exchanged silent glances, acknowledging to each other they knew they had an audience.

"There have been some really good ones though," Hotch said as Dave nodded to him to continue.

"Remember Merrill Dobson in Lower Canaan?"

"Yeah, the Angel Maker case. I remember."

"Jack and I got a beautiful card with a very sincere note from him and Sela when Haley died. And I heard from him when we lost Emily, although it was more on a professional level." Hotch paused for a moment. "The drive back was very nice like you said. I'm thinking about taking Jack there this summer for vacation. I'd like to see them again."

"JJ told me he had called her to get your home address. They are good people Aaron. You and Jack should do that," Dave countered, trying to get the conversation back on a positive note.

Hotch quickly followed Dave's lead. "Not that our brothers and sisters in the Bureau are above having their heads where the sun doesn't shine. You never met him but the case in Sacramento, the unsub hopping trains, Agent Limon had a burr up his butt the minute we stepped off the elevator. You know field agents and _their_ cases."

"Yeah, yeah Jill Morris in Philly. You don't have to rub it in Hotch."

"I take that as you didn't score?"

"God dammit Aaron, we were on a case."

"Since when has that stopped _you_?" Hotch laughed.

Morgan, Garcia and Reid watched with wide grins as Seaver's eye flew open to the discovery that Aaron Hotchner did indeed have a sense of humor.

"The one I'll never forget is Detective Linden in Sarasota. That's the first time in my entire career I almost laughed at a local."

"Florida again," Hotch interrupted. "Seems to be a pattern."

"Are you _ever _off duty Aaron? Mind if I finish?" Hotch waved a hand in the air as he took another sip.

Dave took his own deep drink before starting. "It was when Garcia discovered the blog and Reid figured out it was a conversation between two different people. He started his usual brilliant analysis and got to the part about one using dashes and the other using ellipses."

"I remember. Didn't you two have an exchange?"

"Yeah, he asked me 'Where did you find this kid' and I said 'We found him in a basket on the steps of the FBI'." That elicited a laugh from Hotch as Morgan and Garcia pointed knowing fingers at Reid, hiding their own laughter.

"Anyway, when he first looked at me, the look on his face was just, I mean it was like someone had asked him to spell supercalaflap.."

Hotch waved his hand in front of Dave. "Whoa, whoa, what was that?" as a millisecond of laughter escaped Garcia's lips before Morgan could clap his large hand over her mouth.

"You know Hotch. That word from that movie. Supercalaflap.." Dave replied, doing that pointing thing with his index finger as only Rossi could do.

Hotch interrupted again. "Dave, it's supercalaFRADGulistic. It's from Mary Poppins. Jack has it on DVD. You should watch it with him the next time you come over for dinner."

Dave couldn't resist. "Any kink in it?"

"Dammit Dave," Hotch said shaking his head side to side. "And to think my son calls you 'Uncle'."

"A role I take very seriously. Who else is going to teach that boy there's more to life than having steel shorts."

"You may think that's all well and good. But I swear to you Dave on Haley's grave, you ever even _remotely_ think about teaching our son your _fly_ patterns, you WILL be looking down the barrel of my Glock."

And with that, the dam broke as the cabin of the jet reverberated with the echoes of laughter from the rest of the team.

Dave winked at Hotch as they both growled together, "Good night children." The rest of them just laughed harder.

###


End file.
